Underwater
by SweetHeaven
Summary: Peyton is fed up with everything. She makes a hard decision, but when you make some choices, there's no turning back. Rated M just because of the topic itself.Please, R
1. Chapter 1

**Author:** This is my fist fic on Angst. Please Read & Review, so that I know the things you've liked and the things I have to improve for the next one. Thanks!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own OTH or any of its character.

This-is-a-horrible-day. I knew it was going to be bad, but this is absolutely rubbish. I don't know what I was thinking of when I accepted to come to this all-couples-day by the sea. Brooke and Owen, Nathan and Haley, Mouth and Skills (yeah, they're an item now)… Oh, and Lucas is coming, too. And, obviously, if Lucas comes, his perfect fiancée Lindsay will come with him. I know Brooke's intentions were good when she asked me to join them. It would be good fun, she said. She thinks I have to get used to Lucas being with Lindsay, even if it hurts. Everyone says I will get over it, but, can they know it for sure? Anyone can say 'Hey, Peyton, be strong, time is a healer', but, is it true? Anyway, Nathan and Haley are coming back form their walk, hand in hand, Brooke and Owen are playing in the water, Mouth is whispering in Skills' ear. I am the sparring. When we are all together again in our settlement, Lucas and Lindsay arrive. I have the impression they don't look very happy, but I guess that's just what I want it to be. Well, it's not that I want them to be unhappy, it's just I don't want them to be happy together. I know it's selfish and childish, but that's how I feel. They apologize for being late, and Lucas winks an eye when he says they got asleep because they were very busy at night. Everyone laughs, and I only can smile weakly. They all begin to make fun, kind of dirty comments, but I don't feel like playing that game, considering I am the one with no stories to tell, so I just turn my music on. However, I still can hear the voices and the laughs, the kisses and the whistles. I open my eyes, and I feel sad to realise I'm not with eight friends, but with four couples. I try to join them with other kind of conversations, but it's evident that they find this beach such a romantic place to be, and they want to share every moment just with their loved ones. I wonder what was the point in arranging this thing if all the happy couples want to be on their own. I feel thirsty and I decide it's a good moment to go for a coke.

-Does anyone want something to drink?

None replies. I raise my voice a bit, since I guess they haven't heard me.

-I'm going to buy a coke. Does anyone else want a drink?

-Um, no, thanks, P- says Brooke, without looking at me. The others are too busy to reply.

I buy a coke and drink feverishly. It's cold and it makes me shiver, which is good, because that's the only time I've felt alive in the whole day. I start to walk back with the others, but I do it slowly, 'coz a part of me doesn't want to go there. The beach is almost empty, and so am I.

I've been feeling really depressed lately. I mean, is my life important for someone other than me? Does anybody worry about me? I could die just right now, and none would care. None would give a fuckin' damn… I just feel I can't find my place. My job sucks. I thought it would be great to work in music business, but it seems I'm just not good enough, because I'm completely stuck, working for people who's not interested in music at all, just in fame and money (as if I could get them some of that…), my father is mad at me because I found out his girlfriend was cheating on him and I told him. He accused me of being jealous and refused to believe me. My own father, how could he think I would do such a think? I guess he doesn't really know me, or maybe he's just too in love to see what happens around him. Yeah, love is blind… And my brother, Derek? Well, he just ignores me. We were fine for a while, but know he doesn't reply to may mails or my text messages, and when he does, he's very cold. I really don't know what I've done wrong, maybe I was just too annoying, expecting him to be like a real brother when we hardly know each other. Maybe I've put too much pressure on him. The people I work with, my father, my brother, my friends, Lucas… Everyone seems to be fed up with me. Everything seems darker and sadder when I'm around. I'm like poison. Everything I touch, dies.

I looked at the immense ocean. The feeling of loneliness, of complete emptiness, is killing me, and I feel how it pushes me towards the sea. I stop abruptly, suddenly scared of my own intentions. Can't I be brave enough for once in my life? There are so many things I've lost in my life for being afraid of doing what I really wanna do. I lost Lucas because I was too of a coward to tell him how much I love him. I turn around and see him embracing Lindsay, the true love of his life. Lucas… The pain in my heart is stronger than the fear, and it gives me the courage I need to walk into the sea. I expected the water to be cold, but it isn't, and, somehow, feeling its warmth in my ankles comforts me.

I keep on walking, the waves pushing me out of the ocean, but they cannot stop me. I'm the Angel of Death. Half of my body is already covered by the water, and I throw a last glance at the group. I don't think they've noticed I'm not there. I look into the horizon, fighting back the tears. I hear their distant laughs, and it makes me sick to realise that that sound is going to be my goodbye song.

The water has reached my head now. Some of it has entered into my ears and I cannot hear the sounds of the beach anymore. I close my eyes, and try to relax, though it's not easy. I can feel the water filling my mouth, my nostrils. The air disappears around me, it cannot get into my lungs, but I don't care. After all, what's the point in breathing when my heart is already death?

My body seems to realise what I'm doing and it tries to stop me. My arms and my legs struggle fiercely to get out, to reach the surface, but my decision is made. It takes all my strength to keep under the water.

I've tried to keep my eyes closed all the time, very scared of what would happen if I opened them. I mean, would I be able to try and kill myself looking at the world around me-even if it's a submarine world? Would I change my mind if I saw the light coming into the water, illuminating me? However, I decide to open them just for a second, one last glance to the world I'm about to leave. I look at my hands, my arms are now over my head, floating, swaying slightly. I feel them so light, as if they were not mine anymore. My hair is floating around my head, too. My curly, blond hair… I've always liked it. I think of Nathan, and Jake, and Lucas, stroking it, smelling it, kissing it. I close my eyes. All the faces of my beloved ones appear in my head, very fast, until they all become just a blur in the corner of my mind. My last thought is for Lucas, and I have the impression that my lips form a smile, though I can't know it for sure. Then, there's nothing left but darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't know how long I've been underwater when I feel a strong hand grabbing my shoulder

**Disclaimer:** I don't own OTH or any of its characters.

I don't know how long I've been underwater when I feel a strong hand grabbing my shoulder. The darkness begins to disappear and a bright light blinds me somehow, even though my eyes remain firmly closed. I feel how I'm lifted up, and then something in my back, I guess it's the floor. I can only hear the water, and a voice that seems to come from very far away…

'Stay with me, Peyton. Stay with me'

I open my eyes very slowly, but the light hurts me, and I close them again. Darkness feels safer than the world where the sun is shinning. I hear the voice again. It's his voice, speaking so near that I can feel his warm breath in my wet ear.

'Please, wake up, love. Wake up'

At this point, I understand that, no matter how much I want it, I cannot lay there forever, and I start to move. A lot of thoughts come quickly to my mind, 'How in hell I'm going to explain this?' being the most important.

I try to sit, and someone helps me, but I feel very dizzy and I just wanna lay down again and sleep, sleep forever. I hear a siren and a female voice announces that the ambulance has arrived.

Someone is holding my hand, and doesn't let go, even while the ambulance flies to the nearest hospital. I feel the salty taste in my mouth, my wet hair, the sand in my body, making me feel uncomfortable.

In a wink, we are inside the hospital. I open my eyes just to see a group of people surrounding me, and Lucas staying behind, just waiting at the door where he has been told to wait, and crying silently. I lay my head down and everything fades away.

The sun light is like a caress in my cold cheek. I looked around and realise I'm in hospital. I feel like having slept for a very long time. It's like waking up form a very weird dream, when you don't know if you feel disappointed or relieved that it's over.

Luca is sitting in a chair next to my bed. He seems half asleep.

-Lucas-I say in a whisper.

-Mmm… Peyton? You awake?-I have all his attention now.

-Lucas, go home-I'm too embarrassed to be in his presence right now.

-Home? What are you…?-he seems confused.

-Thanks for coming and all, but you better go.

-Peyton, I have been here for hours, waiting for you to wake up. The others are outside and…

-No! I don't want to see anyone-my voice is trembling.

-Ok, ok, but don't' ask me to go. Tell me, how are you feeling?

-Lucas… I'm so, so, sorry…-I feel hot tears running through my face.

-What for? It hasn't been your fault, it can happen to anyone.

-I…I did it on purpose-I can't stop crying.

His face goes completely white, and he looks at me incredulously. He's hands are shaking.

-YOU WHAT?-he cries.

-I'm sorry!

-Why in hell did you do that? You wanted to be the centre of attention, or what? That's why you accepted to come to the beach, for all that scene?

-No, I…

But he doesn't want to listen to me. He's misunderstanding everything.

-We were dead worried, and you were pretending to drown. I can't believe it, you…

-I wanted to die.

He stops dead. All the anger seems to evaporate. He runs to my bed.

-I wanted to die. I felt depressed. I have nothing, Lucas.

He looks at me in silence, worrying reflected in his eyes.

-You have us, Peyton.

-Really? Because some hours ago I was completely invisible for all of you-I smile sadly- Anyway, it's not only that, it's everything, work, family, friends, you…

-Me what?-he raises an eyebrow.

-Nothing.

-Peyton. You have been about to die today, and I was thinking I would never see your face again. We have been given a second chance to talk to each other. If is there a moment to be sincere, it is now.

I sigh deeply. If he wants the truth, I will tell him the truth.

-I love you. I've always loved you and I know I always will-he seems about to speak, but I haven't finished yet. –Everyone says I will get over it, but I know I won't. Wanna know how I know it? 'Coz when I was underwater, before fainting, the most important moments of my life appeared in my head like a movie, and you were in all of them. How can I get over that? I can't, and it's hard to see you everyday with other woman, and I hate myself because it's all my fault. If I had told you how I felt before… Well, I guess it doesn't matter. I mean, you're in love with someone else. But my life seems so empty without you that…-it's hard to speak, my throat aches and I cough.

-Ok, it's enough, don't speak-he leans a finger on my lips gently-It's my turn now. You're right, I'm with someone else. Lindsay is great and I feel really at ease with her. But… but I don't love her. Not in the same why I loved you. I still do. Yesterday we had a terrible argument. We decide to go to the beach because we thought it was the kind of fun, romantic thing we needed to do to sort things out, but when a relationship doesn't work, a day by the sea cannot fix it. Then, when you almost drown, I thought of the possibility of not seeing you again, not talking to you anymore. The only thing I could think of was 'I haven't told her how much I love her. I haven't say goodbye'.

Peyton, you need to rest to get well soon. If you want to, you can go on a trip, take some days off and travel somewhere, visit a doctor or someone who can help you if you think you're going to try something like what you've done today again, but whatever you do, or wherever you go, I only want to be with you.

He leans forwards and kisses me softly in the lips. I hold his hand tightly and cry, but this time, they're happy tears, because I know he's with me, looking after me, and everything's going to be alright.

But still, this is too good to be true. Sometimes, when we are having a very pleasant dream there is a moment when we suddenly realise that what's happening is not true. Then, you feel that you don't want to wake up, because when you do, everything will disappear and you will be thrown into your disgusting reality again. I hate that feeling. When Lucas placed that kiss in my lips, and I felt his hand, there was a terrible moment when I understood I was dreaming. I understood that my only moment of happiness was unreal. So when I wake up and I notice I'm all alone in a hospital room, I can't help but wonder why in hell I have survived. My way down to Hell has just begun.

**Yeah, there are more**** to come. Poor Peyton is going to suffer a bit more, but next updating may take a bit long. Please, R&R, and thanks to those who reviewed the first chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own OTH, I wish I would.

I've been in hospital for two days now. My friends have showed up a couple of times. My father has spent quite a long time here, too. We haven't talked much, though. The first time he came, he said he had been so worried he forgave everything. It was just like 'I still don't believe you, but I forgive you for being a filthy liar because you're my daughter and you've been about to die'. Well, he didn't use those words, but that was the idea. Derek phoned when my dad told him what had happened. He seemed genuinely upset, but didn't show any intention to come. He thinks it was an accident, everyone does. I haven't had the guts to tell the truth. I don't want them to take pity on me. It's bad enough now that they don't know I did it on purpose. I mean, they all come and look at me in that Poor-Peyton-what-a-terrible-experience way, so imagine if they knew how depressed I feel. The doctor has come just a couple of hours ago, and he has said I will go home tomorrow. I've told everyone in hospital it was an accident. I made up a story: I hadn't had anything to eat since the day before because I had a stomach ache. Then, I had told my friends that it was too hot and I was feeling kind of sick. I've said that I told them I didn't feel well and I was going to buy a coke and go swimming to liven me up, although I only told them about the drink, actually. My friends couldn't tell if this was true or not, can you believe it? Well, I guess that's the advantage of being invisible. Anyway, since none knows the truth, they won't make me stay here to get some "help" (yeah, I mean 'therapy' and that kind of stuff).

God, I really want to get out of here, and I don't mean just this fucking hospital room.

****

Finally, I'm back home. But not for long. Nobody knows yet, but I'm leaving. I can't live here, and it seems I can't die, neither. I think I'm going to New York, a huge city where none knows me and none cares. Actually, I don't know for sure what I'm going to do there, but I feel that I have to leave this damn town. I pack some things and sit at the table with a pen in my hand and a blank paper before me. After fifty different beginnings and dozens of words and sentences crossed out, I finally succeed in writing a goodbye letter. It's quite short and sharp. I don't feel like getting too emotional, and I have to hurry and leave before someone comes in. If I'm lucky enough, none will notice I'm gone within a few days, which gives me the chance to get further and further.

****

The day is absolutely grey and quite cold. It seems unbelievable that just a couple of days ago I was on the beach, lying under the bright sun. When the rain starts, I've just reached the main door. The station is packed, but I can't hear the crowd. I feel like walking in slow motion as I approach my coach and get in. I take a seat next to the window and look outside, watching the raindrops running through the dirty glass. They remind me of the tears I've been unable to cry since I was walking towards the sea. It's really weird, but since I woke up in hospital, I haven't cried a single tear. I feel very, very sad, but I just can't express it anymore, at least not crying.

An old lady asks me with a polite smile if the seat next to mine is free, I nod weakly and she sits. I get myself comfortable and close my eyes. It's not that I want to sleep or avoid the woman's chatting. It's just that I don't want to see the town while we leave. I don't feel strong enough to look at the familiar places. Also, watching what I'm leaving behind makes me realise more intensely that I'm running away. Damn it, I'm such a coward.

****

The trip is boring and pretty tiring. When I arrived, I can hardly feel my legs. I have had to pretend to be asleep all the time so the old lady wouldn't try to start a conversation. Nothing against her, I just didn't want to talk.

The weather is at least as bad as the one I've left in Tree Hill, I button my jacket and I go out. I don't know where to go, so I ask a guy who has just left the station if he knows of any cheap place where I can spend the night. He tells me the name of a hotel and the area where it is placed. The guy looks a bit scruffy, and I'm a bit worried about the place he has sent me to, but is the only thing I have, so I take a taxi and ask the driver to get me there.

The area is quite crappy, and the taxi driver doesn't want to stay for long. When he's gone, I look around and begin to wonder why I've come. It's cold and windy and dark, I'm wet and tired and I don't know where to go. I hang around for a while, Lucas' face in my head, until I see a couple with a suitcase. I hope they are going to a hotel or something! I follow them at a certain distance, and they enter in an old building which looks about to fall down. I come a bit closer, and there it is, neon lights which hardly shine inviting me to come in. Well, it can't be worse than the outside, I guess.

I get in the lousy hotel, and the clerk gives me a rusty key. The corridor smells like sweat and shit, and I can hear people shouting in other rooms. My bedroom is small and kind of creepy. The bed linen is dirty and it smells as if it hadn't been washed for quite a long time. I really don't mind right now, because I'm exhausted and I just want to sleep for a while, but I expect that tomorrow I won't like this place at all.

**** (Two days later)

I haven't left the hotel room in the last two days. I've been lying in bed, getting up only to go the toilet, and hardly eating. The phone has rung a couple of times, so I have had to switch it off. Today, I need to go out. I have decided to go clubbing tonight, I think I need to have some fun, if I'm able to leave all my worries behind just for some hours.

The guy at the reception says there are a couple of good clubs not very far, and, though I can't help but wonder what he would call "a good club", I accept his advice.

There's no queue at the door of the first place I go, so I come in. It's not really crowded, but there are enough people to make me go unnoticed. I've just asked for my first drink when I notice a guy looking at me. He's not really handsome, but seems quite cute. He's blond and tall, and he has a kind smile. He raises his own drink towards me, and I give him a nod.

He approaches, still smiling, and leans forward to talk in to my ear, so that I can hear him over the loud music.

-You alone?-he asks.

-You bet!-I replay.

-I'm Kyle.

-I'm Peyton.

-I hadn't seen you around before.

-It's my first time. Do you come often?

-Yep, the owner's a friend of mine. So you're not going to pay for that drink you're having.

-Really? That's so kind of you. Is there something I could do to thank you?-I say, playfully. It's not that I'm the kind of girl who throws herself in the arms of a guy she doesn't know, but, well, I'm here to have fun…

-Let's get a table over there. The atmosphere is more… intimate-he winks an eye and leads me to a table on a corner. We sit, and before I can even realise, his hand is caressing my knee, going up my thigh. I feel his warm breath in my neck.

-Hey, take it easy, mate- I say. It's not that I don't want it, but I feel suddenly uncomfortable.

-Yeah, sorry-he looks away from me, and I feel bad.

-Can't we just talk for a while? You know, just to get to know each other a bit deeper before… going further.

He smiles again, and we talk about ourselves. Well, actually it's me who talks all the time, just some hints about my past life. In the end, I don't know him better, but I feel much more relaxed. However, I get a bit nervous when I realise he avoids my questions, and he looks a bit tired of the conversation. Maybe I should leave. He seems to notice I'm not really at ease.

-Calm down, babe. Look, I have something that will help us to feel more comfortable together-he smiles mysteriously and takes something out of the pocket of his jacket, a small plastic bag with white powder and something that looks like a small silvery straw.

I feel kind of shocked, I've never been offered any drug before, and actually I've always been quite against it. He starts to prepare everything and when he has finished, he looks at me with his sexy smile and says in a flirting tone:

-So, what do you say, Peyton? Wanna join me for this ride?

******

Thanks a lot for reading. Please, review!


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own OTH or any of its characters.

**Author's note: **I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update (again). I really hope next time I will do better. Thanks a lot to my reviewers, I hope you like this chapter.

And thanks to the readers for spending their time reading my story! As usual, I'm sorry about my grammar mistakes!

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Kyle is looking at me, waiting for my reaction. A part of me is saying "You know you shouldn't do it", but the other part is shouting DO IT! DO IT! I feel quite insecure for a moment, but then I tell myself "C'mon, it's only this time. He's so cute, and he has made you feel so sexy and desirable the whole night, you really want to go further with him. It's not going to kill you, just tonight." I take a deep breath, smile at him, lean forwards and snort.

The cocaine enters quickly, and for a second I feel about to sneeze. Kyle looks at me and smiles widely.

-Well, well. We're going to have a great time, babe.

The time we spend in the club is quite confusing. I feel like laughing all the time, everything seems to be hilarious, even the normal chatting of the people around us. The objects become kind of blurry, and the sound changes all the time. One minute it seems to come from very far away, and the next one it seems to be just inside my head. Kyle is smiling all the time, though his smile is not that sexy anymore. In fact, he looks a bit stupid. I wonder if the people next to us have the same impression about my face, but the next second I just don't care. I dance, but in a really clumsy way. I close my eyes, and shake my head, slowly, fast, slowly, fast… in a movement that has nothing to do with the rhythm of the music. I'm sweating, feeling very hot. I don't know how long I've been moving stupidly on the dance floor when Kyle puts his long arm around me and whispers in my ear:

-Let's go home.

*****

Sex is rough and passionate. We kiss and bite, moan and cry. He's fierce and strong, and every push makes me scratch his back. We go on for a long time, the remaining of the drug making us wild. Oh, yeah. I could stay like this forever.

When it's over, he just turns his back on me and falls asleep. I feel a bit cold and shiver slightly. I wonder if he would mind sharing his bed all the night, but actually, I don't think he really cares if I stay or go. The excitement caused by the cocaine has faded away slowly, and I feel suddenly exhausted.

*****

The next morning, I wake up with the sound of the shower. I notice that I'm sweaty and kinda sticky, but I'm not sure about asking Kyle if I can use his bathroom. When the water's noise stops, I get up quickly and start to look for my clothes. I don't feel really comfortable with the idea of him watching at me while I dress up, which is senseless, considering that we have spend a wild-sex-night together. I guess that's what happens when you go to sleep with someone under the effect of _something_ other than the mutual attraction. I guess he will want me out of his place as soon as possible, so I don't expect him to be very nice.

Kyle comes in wearing an old white towel around his waist.

-Morning, babe-he's voice is not as cold as I expected it to be –Wanna have some breakfast? I don't have many things, just coffee and toasts, hope you like it.

-Oh…Yeah, I… I…Ok, coffee is perfect.

-Well, go and have a shower while I prepare something. Take a clean towel form that drawer.

I take a "clean" towel and go to the bathroom. He calls me back.

-Hey! You can use anything you need, soap, shampoo, my shaving stuff...-he jokes. Then he winks an eye and smiles warmly. He whistles a happy melody while I'm leaving, and I realise I like him even more than last night.

The shower makes me good, though I have to wear my dirty clothes again. When I go back to the kitchen, Kyle has prepared two cups of coffee and a bunch of toasts with some butter.

-Mmmm… It smells good- I say -and certainly it's not me- I add looking embarrassed at my sweaty top.

He gives a light laugh.

-I'm sorry. I could have lent you something and put your clothes in the washing machine. Well, never mind, you have to go the hotel to take all your things and pay the bill, anyway, so…

-What? I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't get you…

-Oh, yeah, I haven't told you. I've thought that you should come and live here.

I open my eyes in surprise, wondering if he's joking. He looks at me with that sweet smile again, holds my hand and says in a voice so warm that it could melt an iceberg

-Look, I'm alone, you're alone. We both feel lonely. You cannot stay in that hotel forever, and I need someone who helps me with the bills. I like you, you like me, and we have spent a great time together. Obviously, there's _something_ going on between us.

Will you accept?

I don't know exactly what he means with that _something_, and I know it's completely absurd starting a relationship with someone you have just met. And, of course, it would be really absurd sharing my life with him. I know all those things, and I know it's a really stupid thing to do. That's why I'm so surprised when I hear myself giving an answer.

-I will.

*****

I've been living with Kyle for nearly two months. The first week was good. His flat was not much better than the hotel room, to be honest, but at least I didn't have the feeling that the door was going to be blown off by a burglar or a rapist at any time. Kyle got me a job in the club where we had met. The first weekend we held a party with some of his friends, we drank a lot and someone brought cocaine, so I tried it again. After all, it hadn't caused any damage the first time, had it? I don't remember much of what happened that night, but I guess I had fun…

The second weekend some other friends came, and brought some drugs. I tried it again, because all of them did, and they seemed to be enjoying so much, and I didn't want them to think I was a loser. I thought it would help me to be less shy, and become a part of the group. And that was the story for the first six weeks, parties with drugs and alcohol, not only at the weekends. Using cocaine on a daily basis started to seem quite normal to me.

The seventh week, there were no drugs, and Kyle got kind of crossed, shouting at me as if it was my fault. Those days, I had the impression that everything I did was wrong, and I was feeling a weird emptiness. I was nervous all the time, and was unable to concentrate. At the end of that week, he said that a friend of him would come and bring something to "cheer us up". Drugs, of course. Though this time they were not for free. His "friend" wanted quite a lot of money –"best quality, you know", he said. So Kyle took the money for the rent. I didn't want him to do that, obviously, but he wouldn't listen to me. When his friend left, we had a terrible argument. He said I wanted the drugs as much as he did, and he was sure I wouldn't mind where the money came from when we were high. I said I was not a fucking addict, and if I was becoming one it was his fault. He said it wasn't, because he had never force me to take any drugs. I called him a bastard, and he slapped me in the face. A thick silence fell upon us. I could feel my cheek getting very hot and my eyes got wet. He looked at me, horrified, and mumbled:

-Oh…God… Sweetie, I'm so sorry…

He moved forwards to embrace me, but I refused to let him touch me.

-Peyton, I'm so sorry… Please, forgive me…

He seemed to be about to cry, and I didn't have the heart to reject him. He was my Kyle, my lovely guy. After all, we were under a lot of pressure, the argument was becoming quite nasty and I had insulted him. Yeah, I could forgive him. I mean, he wouldn't do something like that again, would he?...

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Thanks for reading! Reviews would be much appreciated, very encouraging. I will write another chapter even if I don't get any review on this one, but I should be very grateful if you tell me what you think about how the story is going.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own OTH or any of its characters.

Author's note: Sorry about the grammar mistakes. This chapter contains sexual abuse.

Everything has change since the "slap day". Kyle's mood changes every second. One day he's nasty and talks to me as if I was completely stupid. Sometimes, he even rises his hand, as if he was about to hit me again. The next day he feels bad about it and prepares a romantic dinner. Problem is, I don't how many times I can forgive him. I don't know if I still love him, in fact I'm not sure I have ever loved him, at least not as much as I loved Lucas... But I feel lost without him. He was my light when I was in the darkness, and I still need him. Some days I just want to leave, the next day I want to hug him and start again. After all, I have nowhere else to go. Taking drugs doesn't help much, neither. There have been some days, after one of our "parties", when we have been sleeping on the floor for hours, while our so-called friends and other people we don't even know have been wandering around the flat. It's not unusual to find that some of our money has disappeared, and being able to pay our bills (and our vices) is getting harder every month.

Anyway, I still wanna be here, with him, so I have decided to be more loving. I'm waiting for him lying on the sofa, wearing my newest underwear, trying to look sexy. I have taken one of our "special pills", to be more relaxed. I hope this surprise will let him know how much I care, and that is what I'm thinking when Kyle comes in and says he has been sacked. He seems angry, but not really surprised. To be honest, this is not totally unexpected. He used to like his job and was pretty good at it, but lately, his head has been somewhere else-probably at home, smoking crack and drinking vodka. He goes to the bedroom, without giving me a second glance, and a few minutes later he leaves again, taking with him the money for the food of the next two weeks. I just stay there, wordless, but force myself to react.

-Kyle!-I shout behind me-Kyle, give me that money. It's for the…

-I know, I know… It's fine. There are more important things that the fuckin' food… See you tomorrow.

Tomorrow? I night out with the money for our food? That really drives me mad.

-Come back here, you filthy son of a…

His fist is in my mouth before I can say the last word and I fall backwards. We've been through this before. He will run towards me, lift me up, say he's sorry, I will cry, he will cry… and he will stay with me, and tomorrow it will be a better day… But he doesn't come. He just looks at me, his eyes full of hatred and anger. He turns his back on me without a word, and leaves.

I just sit on the floor for some minutes-or it may be an hour? I try to stand on my feet, but my legs are shaking. I get in the bathroom and look at my reflection in the mirror. I hadn't even noticed that I was crying until I see the watery trace on my cheeks. My bottom lip is swollen.

I go to the bedroom and sit on the bed, not sure of what to do next. I lay down and cry, cry silently until I get sleep, with my head resting on a pillow full of tears.

When I wake up, the first thought that comes to my mind is that last night was not real. No, it was just a nightmare, a bad dream that was now over. Kyle is not in the bed, so I guess he is in the kitchen, cooking a good breakfast. I stretch, and I see a figure standing at the door. Reality strikes my like a thunder when I see his face. Black shadows under his eyes, his hair sweaty and his face dirty, and wearing the same clothes than the night before. My bottom lip starts to prickle. I don't know what to say, especially when he enters in the room and sits in the bed, next to me. I don't dare to move.

He leans forward, and when he's closer, I can smell his breath. It smells like alcohol, and cigarettes, and food. It's making me feel sick. I turn my face and he notices it.

-What?-he asks.

-Nothing, it's just… Your breath is a bit smelly-I try to make it sound like a joke, not as an insult or anything, because I don't want him to get upset, but he has quite a bad temper anyway.

-Smelly? Well, you didn't care much the night I let you in, you bitch!

I still haven't understood why he has got so angry when he force me to look at him, grabbing my face with his strong hand, and kiss me fiercely. It's not a passionate kiss. It's violent and unwanted. I try to push him away, but he's much stronger. I feel how he bit my lips and I taste the blood. I manage to speak and beg him to stop, but he doesn't care. He uses his knee to separate my own legs, and with a furious hand he rips my knickers. It hurts when he enters, his hips kicking mine in an uncomfortable way. He goes like that for a while, moaning and grunting, moving faster and faster. Fortunately, I doesn't last much. Soon, he's out and leaves the room. Oh, God. I'm just thinking it couldn't get worse when he appears at the door again, with another man.

-Peyton-he says, in a surprisingly cold voice-this guy has quite a lot of money to spend here, if you know how to behave…

I need some seconds to understand what he's saying. So that's what I am now for him. A business, a prostitute.

-No way!-I shout, and I throw myself towards the door, trying to slam it on their unemotional faces. Silly move. Thay are two, and they are stronger. The unknown guy grabs me and hits me against the wall. Then he just takes me to the bed and takes out a switchblade knife.

-You don't need that, fella. She will behave, and you will pay me, right?

-Yeah, OK. But I need my bag. It's in your living room.

Kyle leaves to get the bag, while the guy stares at me, at my half naked body, lust reflected in his blue eyes, so light and cold that they seem made of ice.

Kyle comes back, gives him the bag and goes out again. I hear the street door, and wonder how long he will be out. I know that's stupid, considering what he has just done, but a part of me wants him to stay near, in case he has to protect me or something. I mean, as much as he knows, this guy is going to pay him for spending some time having sex with me. But what if this guy tries to kill me or something? I've seen he has a switchblade. Has Kyle thought of that possibility? Or maybe it's even worse. Maybe Kyle is going to get money from this guy if allows him to kill me, I know some people like really weird things in bed. Damn it! He could be a psycho! No, no, I tell myself. Kyle wouldn't allow something like that. He just wants some money to buy drugs, he wouldn't let that happen. He will come back and will find me alive, I'm sure of it.

The guy takes out of his bag some handcuffs and smirks. Then, a second later, I'm tied up to the bedposts. I'm really scared, but the guy doesn't seem to notice. He just strokes my hair gently. Ok, I try to relax. It's just sex, nothing dangerous. Disgusting, I know, but pretty easy to stand, I hope. Just open your legs, Peyton, don't shout, don't cry, and everything will be fine. Just as I'm starting to convince myself, the guy looks for something else in his bag. All my weak self confidence disappears as I see the object he's taking out. A huge kitchen knife…

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The story is getting darker. I think I'm not really good at writing this stuff, but I'll try my best to write a good fic. Please, review! Thanks


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning:** Contains sexual abuse and torture, but just at the beginning. I hope none gets offended or something. Please, read & review, please, please, please…

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The unknown guy with icy eyes comes closer, and I feel my throat getting dry.

-Don't worry, lady. Don't be afraid-he says, playing with my hair-It won't hurt…much.

I close my eyes, unable to look at the knife that gets closer and closer. The first wound is not really painful, just like a scratch on my cheek. The second one, on the other cheek, is a bit deeper, or at least that's my impression. He kisses my wounds, and I feel my skin burning. Then, he makes deepest cuts in my shoulders and arms. My eyes remain firmly closed, and so are my lips, because, terrified as I am, I'm unable to scream.

He enters carefully and moves his hips slowly backwards and forwards. I can feel the beat of his heart against my chest. I feel how he kisses the wounds in my shoulders and arms, licking them. I feel sick at the idea of the guy tasting my blood. The pain is awful, my wounds sting like hell and the smell of blood and sweat makes it hard for me to breath. I faint.

**********************************************************************

Kyle is sitting on an old chair next to the bed when I wake up, visibly uncomfortable.

-You awake?-he says, anxiety reflected in his voice. He looks directly into my eyes, pretending not to see the wounds in my face. He avoids looking at the blood stains in the bed.

My throat is completely dry, and my command sounds like a weak whisper.

-Stay away from me.

-Peyton, I'm so, so sorry. I was desperate, and this fella comes to me and says he has seen us at the club and he fancies you, and offers me a lot of money just for a night, and I see the solution for our problems and…

I just turn my back on him, I don't want to listen to that shit. So now he was doing us a favor? Yes, poor Kyle doesn't want to see me without money, he cares so much about me. I feel him moving forwards and he touches my back gently.

-Please, honey, listen, I…

-Do-Not-Touch-Me.

-Ok, Ok, I leave you alone. I will come back later.

He leaves the room and I stay in bed, staring at the dirty wall, and thinking, for the first time in weeks, of Tree Hill.

*********************************************************************

Two months have passed since that terrible night, but I'm still here. I haven't forgiven him, but I have not found the strength to leave. After all, I have nowhere to go. I considered the possibility of going to Tree Hill, but then I changed my mind. How could I come back like this? I have become an addict, an abused woman, a prostitute. The truth is, I feel ashamed of myself, I feel humiliated, I can't stand looking at myself in the mirror, I feel disgusted if Kyle touches me, and lonely if he doesn't. I've lost my job, too, and sleeping with men for money is becoming easier and easier.

I'm high most of the time, or trying to get the money to get high again. Now, I don't even care when Kyle hits me, something that he does more and more frequently. We still throw our parties. There, I have sex with men I don't know, and they don't even pay me, but I don't give a damn.

I've finally hit rock bottom, and the truth is that I couldn't care less. It's really sad to think of it, but the only things that makes me realise that I'm alive are the things that hurt me. When Kyle is not kicking me, or raping me, or when I'm not poisoning myself with any kind of drug, I feel dead, like a ghost that wanders around the house where she used to live, seeing without being seen, unable to recover human feelings like joy or excitement. Only pain remains. Is not any reason for me to live anymore?

******************************************************************

When I wake up today, I need to hurry to the toilet. I puke like hell. I go to the kitchen and prepare some breakfast for Kyle, because I'm not hungry at all. The smell of the bacon makes me sick again, and I run towards the bathroom. This time, I puke so badly that when I'm done I need to sit on the floor. I wanna brush my teeth, so I open a drawer and look for the toothpaste. There, I see my sanitary napkins, and a thought strikes me. When was the last time I used one of them? I think fast, trying to concentrate, I run to the bedroom and look at the calendar that hangs on the wall. Ok, it should have been two weeks ago, but it wasn't… It's good that I'm not high yet, because I still can think with certain clarity: not having my period and vomiting in the morning mean something. I look up a number in the telephone guide and make a call. I have a shower, take my bag and leave, leaving a puzzled Kyle in the kitchen.

*******************************************************************

I have passed this door many times, but I have never given it a second look. When I come in, there are two women sitting in the anodyne waiting room, reading old magazines. One of them is really fat, I guess she is pregnant and is about to give birth or something. The other one is in her early forties, and I wonder why she is here. I guess it must have something to do with hormones or with the lack of sexual desire in her marriage. Man, did I use to be so nasty?

Anyway, after a while, a nurse calls their names. The fat one goes through a corridor on the left, and the other goes to the right. I still have to wait for ten minutes or so when the nurse says:

-Peyton Sawyer? Dr. Robinson is waiting for you. Over there, please.

She nods towards a brown door with a dirty glass where the name "Dr. Robi son" appears in black letters.

I take a deep breath and knock at the door. A deep male voice replies:

-Enter.

********************************************************************

When I come back home, Kyle is sitting on the living room, smoking a cigarette.

-Where have you been? I was worried.

-Sure you were. Thought I had left with all the money or something?

He smirks, and for a second I think he's going to hit me for being so insolent. But he doesn't.

-Yeah, well. That was something to be worried about… Anyway, are you going to tell me?

-You're going to find out sooner or later, anyway, so… Ok, this is the thing: I'm pregnant.

-What? Oh… What? You're joking.

-No, I'm not. I'm pregnant, and before you even ask, I'm going to have this baby.

-Oh, fine… I, well, yeah, I want to ask you something, anyway.

-What is it?

-Who's the dad?

Oh, God. I hadn't thought of it actually. I mean, I was somehow assuming that my partner, that is, Kyle, was the dad, but now that I come to think of it, it could be anyone. This truth should make me feel horrible, but I can't help laughing. It's a hysterical laugh, and it almost makes me fall backwards. And suddenly I'm crying, unable to stop myself. Kyle looks at me, confused. After a while, I can finally speak.

-Would you believe me if I say it's yours?-I ask sadly.

He seems to think of it for a second, but I'm pretty sure he already knows his answer.

-Don't think so-he shrugs his shoulders-It could be anyone, right? I mean… Well, you fuck… Well, you know what I mean-now there is a dangerous anger in his voice.

-Does it really matter if you're not the dad? After all, we are an item, aren't we? So we could be a family anyway. We…

He looks at me with his eyes wide open. I shouldn't have said that. He's too proud, too arrogant. How could he bring up another man's baby with me? How could he be the responsible father of the baby his girlfriend has had with another man, when he cannot even look after himself? No, definitely, he's not gonna be happy with my question. I can see the fire in his eyes, the veins in his neck getting bigger and bigger, and for the first time in a long time, I'm worried about being hit, because now I have to look after someone else, the little life that grows inside of me. I have to protect my baby. But I don't think Kyle gives a damn when he raises his clenched fist…


	7. Chapter 7

**Author**: I'm so sorry it has taken me so long to update, I've been through a very hard time. I hope you still want to know what happens with Peyton! I don't own OTH or any of its characters, but you already knew it…

He doesn't hit me. Instead, he sighs deeply and looks away. Then he stares into my eyes and nods slowly.

-Ok, I guess it could be mine… Or maybe not, but we still can be a family, or, well, kind of.

Well, that's totally unexpected. I smile and kiss him once. I didn't really believe that he would accept, so this has been a nice surprise. Suddenly, I am thrilled about our future. I don't want to screw it up, but there's a point that I really want to make clear.

-You know there are certain things that must change… We'll need to save money, and those people who are always coming 'round…

-Yeah, yeah, I know… I guess we can try-he says in a surprisingly confident voice. His mood seems to be improving as he speaks-We'll have to buy many things and…oh, wait, is it a boy or a girl?

-It's not possible to know it yet-I say, hugging him. For the first time in months, I feel the embrace of the man I fell in love with.

*******

Two weeks have passed since the day I told Kyle I was pregnant, and I couldn't be happier. I love sitting in the sofa next to Kyle and humming a lullaby for the bay. Kyle laughs and says the baby cannot hear it, but I think he's wrong. Kyle has found a job in a petrol station. We won't be rich, but it's good enough. Obviously, I know we need time to change our 'habits', but we're trying hard. I haven't used any drug since I knew I was pregnant, and, though the cold turkey is giving me a really hard time, the feeling of my baby growing inside of me gives me the strength I need. I think it would be a good idea to take some vitamins, so I open the drawer where we keep the money and look for some bucks. Suddenly, I have a weird feeling. I would have sworn that we had more money in the drawer… Ok, maybe I'm wrong. I don't usually count it, so I cannot say it for sure, but I have the impression that there used to be more notes. Anyway, just before closing the drawer, I count the money. It's not that I don't trust Kyle, it's just… Well, I need to be sure. I go to the shop and buy some food and the vitamins.

Back home, I hear the phone.

-Babe, it's me. Listen, I won't be at home for dinner. I've met this friend of mine, I hadn't seen him for a long time, we used to go to buy drugs together…

-What?!!

-No, no, it's not what you think. He's clean now, and I think he may have quite a good piece of advice to share… We'll go for a drink in the club, but I won't be late, right?

I doubt for a second, but then I think he's trying so hard to change, and it can be a good idea to speak with someone who's been through it…

-Yeah, fine. See you later, then.

When he comes home, it's quite later than I expected, but he seems to have enjoyed, so I don't think much about it.

****

Today, I have visited Dr. Robinson. He says we soon will be able to know if my baby is a boy or a girl. Walking home, I think that I would love to have a baby girl. I mean, as long as the baby is healthy, I'm happy enough, but I've always thought it would be wonderful to have a daughter. I always thought that, if I had a daughter, I would name her Brooke, just like the girl who used to be my best friend in other life, but that name doesn't mean much to me right now, it's just a memory. Now, I would call her Angela, because I feel her like an angel that has come to rescue me from the dark hole where I was falling. Yeah, she will be my sweet, little angel...

When I approach our building, I see a guy I think I've seen before. Perhaps he lives in the neighbourhood, because I'm pretty sure I know his face.

I get home. Kyle is lying on the sofa. At the beginning, I think he's asleep, but when I come closer, I notice his eyes are partially open. He has a silly expression on his face, and makes a soft sound, like giggling in a quiet voice or something. I've seen him high many times, and I recognize the signs easily. I remember who the guy I've just passed on the street is. He has been in some of our parties. I run to the bedroom. The drawer where we are supposed to keep themoney is almost empty. The fucking bastard has used our money to buy his fucking drugs!

Ok, I need to think. First, I phone Michelle, a very nice girl who works in the club we usually go, where I used to work. I ask her if Kyle was there last night.

-Yes, he came around with that Rodney fella. Girl, I think that guy used to be a drug dealer or something. He used to come and sell his shit. I hadn't seen him for some time.

-Did they… did they buy something?

-Yep, I think so. I was very surprised when I saw them talking to Theo, you know, the dealer… I thought Kyle was kinda clean or something, but Theo said they bought cocaine, Rodney paid for everything. He said he wanted to pay for Kyle, since last time Kyle had paid for both of them.

-Last time? Kyle said they hadn't met for a long time, how can Rodney remember what happened then?

-No idea. Is everything OK? Well, I guess it isn't. You worried that Kyle is…? Listen up, I will ask Theo and I'll tell you if he knows something…

-Thanks, Michelle. I need to know it as soon as possible… Bye.

I walk nervously around the room, waiting for Michelle to call. After forty minutes or so, I hear the phone.

-Michelle?

-Yeah, it's me. I'm sorry, Theo was very busy, it took me ages to find him. Look, Peyton, I don't know how to say this… Theo says Kyle has been buying some stuff. Two or three days ago, he bought cocaine for him and for Rodney. I'm so sorry. If I had seen him I would have told you before…

-Yeah, it's…Ok, I… I… Well, thanks Michelle.

I hang up the phone horrified. He has been lying and stealing the money we are trying to save for the baby. I've been living in a fantasy, it was all a lie. How could I be so stupid? I should have seen it…

I go back to the bedroom and put some personal items in my bag. I cannot carry many things, anyway. I open a drawer and take my mobile phone –though I haven't switched it on for ages- and its battery charger. I have to leave, and I need to be quick. I thought he had changed, and he hadn't. But I have. Now I can clearly see that I need to go somewhere else, not only for me, but for my unborn child. I don't know where I could go, but I think I deserve better… I take the money left in the drawer and go out. When I come into the living-room, he's not on the sofa anymore, but stands on his feet and looks at me puzzled.

-I thought you'd come back later…

I say nothing and go to the door. When I'm in the staircase, I hear his voice, but he's not able to speak properly.

-Where you goin'…

I ignore him but he is too near and grabs my arm.

-Don't touch me, you filthy liar! You can stay there with your fucking drugs, I hope you enjoy them until they kill you-I shout, and try to go.

-What you have in the bag? You stealing me money, bitch?-he still speaks in that weird way, it's pretty high, but he's still stronger than me. He tries to grab my bag, and when I try to put it away, he pushes me. The floor disappears under my feet as I fly above the stairs. I land with a loud noise, and fear comes to me immediately. I grab my tummy in horrible pain and I feel my pants getting wet. I think I hear Kyle's voice, but it seems to come from very far away… It reminds me of a feeling I have already experienced… Long ago, when I was underwater and I was about to die… And, as it happened then, I see the world disappearing around me.

I feel cold, and I imagine a baby face, the face of my sweet, little angel, my baby girl, before closing my eyes, thinking that they won't be open again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's disclaimer:** I don't own OTH or any of its characters.

I wake up with the beep-beep of one of those hospital machines to monitorize a patient. Through the window, I can see it's dawning, which means I have been here for hours. I feel very weak, my head aches horribly and my arm is in a plaster cast. All my body is in pain, but what makes me feel more unease, what disturbs me the most, is a weird feeling of emptiness, of loss. I don't know how I know it, but I'm pretty sure of what I have lost. I touch my abdomen almost unconsciously, and, absent-mindedly, I start to hum a lullaby, though I feel my baby is not there to hear it.

A nurse comes in the room, and tells me the doctor will come in a minute. She does something in the beep-beep machine and leaves.

Then, a short man with a dark beard comes and looks at me with friendly eyes.

-Good morning, I'm Doctor Holmes. How are you feeling?

-As if I had fallen off the stairs-I say in a cold voice.

He looks at me and smiles, showing his beautiful, white teeth. But then his face turns serious.

-Ok. You hit your head pretty hard, lady. Your arm is broken and you will have to be here for some days so we can make sure that your fall hasn't caused you internal injuries-he looks away uncomfortably before continuing-The baby hasn't survived. I'm really sorry.

-Thanks-I mumble.

-I have to ask you some questions, right?

-Now? I'm not really in de mood…

-Ok, I'll come back later…-he says, not very sure.

-I'm fine, thanks, Doctor Holmes.

He leaves the room, but I'm sure it won't be long before I see him again. I feel very tired and I fall in a dreamless sleep.

As soon as I wake up, the doctor is there to continue our conversation. His first question surprises me somehow.

-Your ID says you're Payton Sawyer, right?- I nod -Well, Peyton, is there someone we should call?

I look at him quite confused. I thought they would take for granted that Kyle would do that.

-I don't understand… -I say, unsure.

-We haven't found any contact number in your bag, and your phone was switched off, so we could not check your list…

-The guy who brought me here, he's my baby's father, he…

Now is the doctor who looks surprised.

-A guy? You were brought here by a woman who found you in an alley. You were alone- he thinks about it for a while before speaking again- If you want to report…

-No, no. It's Ok, I'll think of it, thanks.

The doctor looks slightly uncomfortable, so the end of the medical test comes quite fast. I guess he's looking forward to dealing with another patient. Just before he leaves, I ask if I can have my phone back.

-Yes, sure. Someone will bring you your things.

Some minutes later, a woman comes in with my bag and my clothes. She puts everything in a chair next to my bed. Well, at least Kyle let me keep my bag. I ask the woman to hand it to me, and then she leaves. All the things I took are there except the money. It's good that my phone was in a "secret" pocket. Otherwise, he would have stolen it to sell it and buy more drugs. I fight back the tears and switch it on.

I'm sure I should call someone, but there's none I feel strong enough to talk to. I'm alone, once more. And my baby, my savour, is gone. I will never see her face, I will never hold her in my arms, never laugh with her or comfort her when she's sad. My little angel doesn't exist anymore. I try not to think of it, but it's impossible. All the images of last night come back suddenly, hitting me hard. Then the memories of the last few months, and then my mind goes further and further in time, to a day by the sea with my so-called friends, I see their faces, and in my head I look for him, I beg I can find his smile in the mixture of images I see inside my aching head, and there he is… Lucas.

I grab the phone strongly and dial his number. Oh, God –beep- What am I going to say? –beep- How am I going to explain everything –beep- What if he hangs up? –beep-and here it is, the sound of his voice…

-_Hello, this is Lucas. I can't talk now, so leave a message and I'll phone you back._

I hear the signal, but I'm completely wordless. What can I say? All the things that have happened, all the emotions… Unable to speak, I leave a kiss in his answering machine, and I start to cry, frustrated.

***************************************************************

Three days have passed since the day I woke up in hospital, and Dr. Holmes says I will be able to go home tomorrow. He asked me what I was going to do about Kyle, but I told him I would think of it when I'm out of hospital. He didn't look very satisfied with my answer, I guess he thinks I will go back with Kyle as soon as I leave this room, like many other women he has seen in the same situation, but I won't. I have a weird thought. If he had hit me and sent me to hospital some months ago, I'd probably go back to our flat again, to live with him. But he has killed my baby, and I cannot forgive him. In fact, the only reason why I don't go to his house and stab him to death is that I know he didn't intend to kill the baby. He has made a lot of bad things of me, but he won't make me a killer.

Hospital staff has noticed I'm an addict (it seems I wasn't as well as I thought) and Dr. Holmes has suggested that I should start a therapy. He will find a good rehab centre. At the beginning I wasn't very sure, but now I think I really can do it, and I definitely have to change my life, so I guess that's a good starting point.

On the other hand, I'd like to leave this city as soon as possible. I have too many memories, and unfortunately, most of them are bad. Maybe I should go back to Tree Hill. I guess Lucas saw my call and phoned me back, but I don't know it for sure, because I switched off my cell phone after my frustrated attempt at talking to him. I'm too scared to face him, to face them all, but I have understood I can't hide forever. A part of me thinks I should go back there, try to get my life back and do it better this time, but on the other hand, I'm too ashamed of myself, and after all my experiences in New York, I don't really think I can be the Peyton I was, or if I want to be the same person. What should I do?


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's disclaimer:** I don't know OTH or any of its characters.

**A/N: **I cannot apologise enough for having neglected my updates for soooooooooo long. Family and health problems have kept me away from writing for a very long time, and even though I guess that none of the readers who were interested in this story is waiting for an update anymore, I just didn't want to leave it unfinished, so here I come again. I'm so sorry.

DAY 1

I've decided to stay here a bit longer and go to therapy. Dr. Holmes told me I could stay here and start it, and go somewhere else (Tree Hill, for example) and continue there, but I think it's better if I go home just when I'm completely recovered.

I come into the room and look around trying to find a friendly face, but as I watch the sadness in the eyes of all these people, it soon becomes clear that this is not the best place to make friends. Then, a man in his forties comes in and says in a kind voice that we are going to start.

We all take a seat and listen to the man, who introduces himself saying that his name is Raymond and that he's going to help us through this hard way. After a brief speech about the importance of our force and self-confidence, and about how great is the fact that we have found the strength to go to therapy, he invites anyone who wants to speak to go to the front and talk about his or her experience.

We all start to look around uncomfortably, trying to avoid his gaze. Someone coughs, and the man gives us a kind smile while we just let the time pass by.

Then a guy around thirty stands and goes to the front.

-Hi, I'm Erik and I'm an addict.

Some people say in monotone voices:

-Hello, Erik.

God, this is just like in the movies. Could it be more pathetic? The guy keeps on talking.

-This is not the first time I come to one of this meetings, so I guess it's easier for me to come to the front and speak about my experience, since I've heard many people like you and me telling their story. I won't say that I became an addict the first time I got drunk, because I was fourteen and it was at a birthday party. My hangover was so terrible that I didn't drink alcohol again until I was twenty!

Some people laugh. He's good, he's connecting with the audience, I think. He continues:

-At eighteen, I started a band. I was the bass player. The first two years were hard, but really fun. Playing in clubs of friends of our friends, school balls… Then, we got someone's attention and we recorded a CD. Of course, it was not a big deal. The record company was really rubbish and the place where we recorded the CD was not much better than the garage where we used to practise, but it opened some doors for us. We even made a kind of tour! Then, we started to become famous around the city (and being famous in New York is not that bad) and we started to be invited to fashion parties. The first time I tried cocaine, a beautiful girl who was probably underage and who wanted to become a model or an actress was offering herself to sleep with me if I let her participate in our video clip. She said she would share with me the cocaine she had got from the guy who was organizing the party. It was a weird feeling…

Erik's voice fades away as I remember my own "first time" with Kyle at the club. It all comes to my mind again, our first night together, the next day, when he asked me to move with him, the first "drug party", the first argument, the first time he punched me, a mixture of memories and emotions that I just can't leave behind… Now Erik's voice seems to be so distant I can barely hear what he's saying. I feel like suffocating and I need to go out of the room looking for air to breath. I stand and some people look at me, but with no real interest. Erik looks at me too while I'm leaving, but he doesn't stop talking. Is it rude what I'm doing? Are we allowed to leave the meeting like that? Well, I couldn't care less. I just need to run out of that room. In the corridor, I lay against a wall and I breathe deeply for five or six times. I sit on the floor and close my eyes. I feel hot tears running down my cheek, but after some minutes I feel much more relaxed. It seems that crying has been good for me. I don't know how long I've been sitting there when I hear a voice next to me.

-Hey, are you OK?

I open my eyes in surprise, I had forgotten I was sitting on the floor of a corridor, with my eyes closed and my cheeks wet with tears. Erik is looking at me and seems a bit worried.

-Yeah. I'm sorry I've left like that. I didn't mean to be rude…

-Oh, never mind. It was your first meeting, wasn't it? Things like that happen to many people the first time they come. They feel anxious, I suppose. In many cases, they have gone through terrible things, and it's not easy to face certain memories…

-Tell me about it. I've just left hospital. My boyfriend sent me there after throwing me down the stairs and killing our baby-my voice fades away when I say these last words. I try to smile, but it's kind of pathetic.

-Sorry, it must have been really sad. Do you want to talk about it?-he says, pointing to the room where the addicts are telling their pains.

-What? No, not really… Not now. I think I'm not ready yet. I want to recover, I want to be free from all this drug shit, but I don't think I'm able to tell a bunch of guys I don't know how my life has been in the last year.

-You can tell me, if you want to. It may help you to face "the bunch of guys" any other time if you tell me first. By the way, I'm Erik.

-Hello, Erik- I say, mocking the voices that have greeted him just some minutes ago. He throws me a severe glance and I blush immediately, but before I can apologise, he smiles.

-Sorry-I mumble –I'm Peyton.

-Hello, Peyton.

DAY 2

Erik has told me that I can stay in the rehab centre if I have nowhere else to go. Apparently, they have rooms for those addicts who have lost everything they had, even their home, or for those who consider they don't have enough self-control to stay away from whatever it is what's killing them. At first, I have been about to refuse his offer. In a way, I was just thinking "C'mon, do I look like a fuckin' homeless?" But then I have realised that I actually AM a fucking homeless. I have no place to go, I'm unemployed (obviously, I'm not coming back to the club where I used to work. Kyle could be around…) and I have no savings. In fact, now that I come to think of it, I'm starting to wonder how in hell I'm going to pay for this treatment. So, yeah, I have to accept, but I'm just too proud to admit I have no other choice, so I say "oh, OK, yeah" in this _I-only-accept-so-that-you-can-enjoy-the-pleasure-of-my-company_ voice.

The room is not as bad as I had expected. It's quite small, but I don't really need more. It has white walls and a small window a bit too high. There's a small table and two plastic chairs. There's also has a bunk bed, so I guess that maybe I'm having a roommate, a fact that doesn't make me especially happy. I leave my bag in the upper bed and I sit in one of the chairs, not very sure about what I should do now. The woman who has showed me the room, whose name I can't remember right now, gives me a piece of paper with the meals timetable written on it and then leaves without giving me a second look. Well, I only have one hour before lunch, but I don't feel like eating anything, actually. I feel terribly sick, as if I was about to puke everything I've eaten in the last 10 years. I decide to go and explore the centre. I meet some people in the corridor, and I guess some of them have been in drugs for a lot of time, because they look just horrible, even scary. I wonder if "clean" people see me in that way when they look at me. I hope they don't… (Hey, what was that? Am I actually starting to care about others' opinion again? Well, two days without drugs and I'm becoming myself again! This is going to be easy…)

I find a quite noisy room with a TV, and some tables with people playing cards or other games. I would say it's a room for relaxing, but many of the people inside seem to be anything but relaxed. Anyway, I guess it will be good to try and have a kind of "social life" while I'm here. Oh God, is it me or it's incredibly hot in this room? I'm sweating as if I had run a marathon… I decide to sit on the sofa in front of the TV, where a dyed-blonde woman watches TV and smokes a cigarette. Man, now it's so cold… I'm approaching the sofa when I see Erik at the door, talking to a huge guy. He looks at me and smiles, I want to smile back but I think I'm going to vomit. The noise in the room has become an unbearable buzz. Erik waves at me (at least I think he does, because he looks kind of blurry) and I want to wave back, but my arm feels so heavy I think I'm unable to rise it. I can see his smile running away from his face while he runs towards me, and his arms trying to reach me are the last thing I see before collapsing on the floor.


End file.
